A Case of General Incivility
by livviedoo
Summary: Found this collecting dust in a random folder on my laptop. It's basically me fangrrling All Things Bonnie fangrrling All Things Lizzie Bennet. All literary brilliance is the mastery of Jane Austen.


" **Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" – Elizabeth Bennet,** _ **Pride and Prejudice**_

It was one of those rare days when everyone else had somewhere else to be or something else to do and for once no looming spectre of some-next level evil hung over their immediate future. And Bonnie meant to enjoy every minute of it.

When she first arrived at the boarding house and noticed that both Salvatore cars were absent from the driveway, she almost turned back. But the promise of a cozy, well-stocked library of original editions, and an even cozier, well-worn leather chaise lounger was a call too strong to resist and after a quick ' _apertus_!', she strolled through the foyer heading straight for her destination. She smiled to herself as she remembered one of Damon's wisecracks about the boarding house's revolving door status:

' _We should just put some golden arches out front with a ' millions served' sign underneath', he had mumbled at the time, throwing a curt side-eye at Bonnie as he made his way past the foyer._

 _Bonnie had laughed, then, asking him why he didn't just put a lock on the door._

' _Are you serious, Bon Bon? As if a mere lock could stop the likes of 'The Most Powerful Bennett Witch', his eyes widening in emphasis._

And now that said Most Powerful Bennett Witch had found her tome, she let her imagination drift…

 _She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him._

 _While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door-bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began -_

Suddenly, the book was practically torn from her grasp, eliciting a surprised gasp of her own, that quickly became a furrowed-brow emphasised cry of derision.

'Damnit Damon, give that back!' Still somewhat reclined, Bonnie propped herself up on her elbows as she prepared to confront her interruption. She made to grab the book back from him.

'Careful there, Judgy, I don't think your tips from schilling low-rent booze at the campus pub will cover the cost of replacing this original – ' he flipped the book upside down, its pages fanning around the finger he had pressed against the page she had been reading, " _Pride and Prejudice_ , by the author of _Sense and Sensibility_ " Well look at that, no wonder you like this book. Yet another person not taking proper credit for her work."

"Seriously, Damon, can I have it back?" Bonnie exhaled. She couldn't explain why, but she really didn't want Damon to know where she was in the book, especially since it was one of her favourite parts – Darcy's impossibly awful proposal to Elizabeth Bennett. She had just managed to get into that zone where the real world fell away and she was no longer just reading a story, but being a part of someone's experience, and like a needle scratching across a record, Damon crashed her literary party, with thought-police in tow.

"I mean, I know your sexy-times," he cringed and shuddered, "with Jer-bear have lowered your expectations, but trolling back two-hundred years to get your rocks off is kinda pathetic don't you think?"

Bonnie reached for the book again, and just as frustratingly, Damon held it even higher aloft. Grunting in frustration, Bonnie rolled off the lounger and stood.

"I could easily just take it from you, you know." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, refusing to continue to participate in Damon's game of keep-away. With a quirked eye-brow, her voice lowered, she finished, "Or better yet, I could make you beg to give it to me."

Despite lifetimes of practice, Damon was unable to school to his features. A tingling jolt ran up his spine, and through his groin, causing his mouth to hang slightly ajar with a puffed exhalation of air.

Oblivious, Bonnie took a step closer towards him. "Really. I think that is something I would love to see. Damon Salvatore, on his knees before me, begging me –" she prodded his chest, zapping him with a small burst, "to do what I want. To make me happy, for once." She took a last step so that she was practically toe-to-toe with him. "To please me".

Chin out, shoulders back, she dared to him to counter. And for the undead life of him he couldn't. Her proximity, her scent, her complete ignorance of the succulent double-entendre of what she was saying had crossed his wires.

He opened his mouth to speak, to say some, anything to save face and stop the rush of unfamiliar and disorienting feelings flooding his consciousness, but Bonnie doubled-down, placing her finger against his lips to silence any attempt at rejoinder.

"And as for 'sexy-times', Damon, you can't say shit to me. All you know how to do is fuck – and yes, I've heard that you can do that with some efficiency." Hearing her curse, her emphasis of the epithet, simultaneously caused his eyes to widen and his pants to tighten. "But you know squat about intimacy. And that, vampire, is something that _fuels_ me. You couldn't handle my shit."

Bonnie reached round him to grab the book that was now loosely pinched between his fingers. She tapped him on the chest with it and turned to leave. Stopping a few steps away, she turned one last time to pierce him with a look that would keep him awake and erect for nights to come – anger, confidence, sultriness and seduction all in one.

It was only the sound of the door slamming that snapped him out of his trance.

Damon raked his hands through his hair, releasing a half-groan, half-laugh.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.


End file.
